The Seventh Avenger
by pyropandemonium13
Summary: My made up character in the Avenger's world. Hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think! -Pyro
1. Meeting the Others

I walked along the beach, wondering what the hell I was going to do. The salty sea breeze blew my waist-length blonde hair behind me, save a few strands straggling around my face. If I accepted the offer to join SHIELD and the Avengers Initiative, I would be sacrificing all that I hold dear to me: isolation and peace, and the fact that SHIELD killed my parents, well, the closest thing I ever had to parents, put me in situations full grown adults couldn't handle when I was just a teenager, and took away any chance I had at being normal. On the other hand, if I chose not to help, the Earth could be invaded by an alien race, to which I would probably never find any alone time ever again: at least by joining I could run away and return when I was needed. In that split second, I made my decision, and didn't question it or ponder on it. I spun on the heel of my brown lace-up boot, which was now covered with water and sand, started running faster than any human ever could hope to run, lunged into the air, and soared into the clear blue sky, my hair whipping behind me: then sensation of flying clearing my head, making the decision I made all the more clear, and I'm even more positive this is the right one.

Obviously, I could fly: I also had certain physical attributes enhanced above and beyond a normal human's, such as speed, strength, sight, hearing, flexibility, reflexes, agility, pretty much anything along that line. I'm also fairly smart, then again, when you hang around drunks your whole life so they make drunken deals with you, everyone else seems like a freaking genius, but that is another aspect enhanced. As I fly to New York City, the current location of where SHIELD's base, the Helicarrier, is floating around somewhere, they would not disclose the exact location, the thoughts of how I ended up like this and in this situation.

I was taken by SHIELD as a pre-fertilized egg; my biological parents conceived me and decided to donate me to my own personal hell. In that state, I was altered in the ways to make me as I am; SHIELD's hope was to create a race of beings like me. But as time wore on, as I started getting board of all their little exams, experimentations, tolerance level tests, you name it; I started to develop something they never expected: feelings. I was human, at first, anyway, and they never did anything to stop me from becoming independent, to function as something other than their personal robot. My adopted parents; at least that's what I call them, were a scientist couple studying me, and broke me out when I was about 14. A few months after my great escape, I was abducted off the streets, where they had to put me down with a bullet to the shoulder, as SHIELD had trained me in combat in the time I was with them, and I suppose have to thank them for that, I was beating them badly.

Anyway, I got back to their little base, where they tortured me with information about SHIELD, my experience with them; basically my entire life, but spending most of my life with them(SHIELD) toughened me up and their torture methods, which included drenching me then shocking me, waterboarding, high pitched noises that only I could hear, which almost broke me, but I waited for the bullet wound to heal, which took all of one day, my healing rate is excelled too, and I escaped easily. My dad died a few months after, and the group struck again when I was 16, causing a car crash that killed my mom and abducting me again, torturing me with the same methods, giving me God-awful flashbacks even today, broke me. The wounded creature that I was, I flew with all speed to Florida, where I found a way to make money, which included betting on things of strength, wit, you name it, and eventually got enough money by 18 to buy a super-nice loft and settle down for a good 10 years. 8 years later, SHIELD somehow found out where I was, my blonde hair, violet eyes, and my all together recognizable appearance and attributes probably making me easy to track, and asked me to join back up with them.

Despite all of this, I wasn't mad. Sure, SHIELD screwed me up beyond redemption, but it was all that who made me who I was. Plus, it's pretty badass being able to fly, which I have them to thank for.

I could fly very fast, how fast I'm not sure, but I fly low to the ground and the landscape become a blur, but after about 20 minutes, I can make out the Empire State Building, and slow down to look for the Helicarrier. After about five minutes of flying around, right in front of me, a floating air craft carrier, yeah, paint that mental picture in your mind, suddenly shimmered in existence before me. I stopped myself in mid-air, somewhat surprised by the sudden appearance of the craft, but calmly started flying toward it, eventually landing on the metal deck, where a man in a suit and a few armed guards were standing, presumably waiting for me.

"You must be Gale Abernathy," says the man in the suit. He appears to be in his late forties, has thinning, receding brown hair, and gray eyes.

"Unless you're expecting some other flying person to be here today," I reply sarcastically, but not rudely. This gets a small chuckle out of him and he extends his hand in greeting, saying,

"My name is Phil Coulson: I am an agent with SHEILD." I shake his hand and reply,

"Nice to meet you Agent Coulson." I drop my hand back down to my side and looked nervously down at my green tank top, gray jacket and jeans.

"You're not pissed?" was his next question as we headed to inside the Helicarrier.

"Why would I be pissed?" I asked, only half interested, basically just taking in my surroundings.

"Well, we screwed you up: we were the cause of your caretaker's deaths, you're probably scarred you for life, how are you not tearing this place apart?" he asks, genuinely curious. I was actually surprised at this: I'm guessing this is some sort of apology, but he had nothing to do with me, as far as I know: I remember every face that I ever saw in that place.

"You have to learn to let things go: plus, it must suck not being able to fly," I grin. He smiles back, obviously relieved at the lack of hostility in my voice, and says,

"I'm glad to hear that: I don't fear for my life anymore."

"Were the armed guards really necessary?" I inquire, motioning to the four guards still following us.

"Oh yes: you are dismissed," he motions, the guards, turning and going the opposite way we are.

"What were they there for, anyway?" I ask.

"Oh, we weren't sure what you were here for: if you were going to be a threat, those guns could put you down, but hell, we don't know how far your abilities have developed," he waves a hand, brushing away the matter, and I am satisfied with this, for now anyway. I decide that this guy isn't half bad, that we might be friends, given we spend enough time on it.

"Where are we going?" I realize that he never mentioned it.

"You," he corrects, "Are going to meet the people who are also part of the program." I question his use of people in that context, but not aloud. We walk in silence for five minutes; I'm memorizing the halls, twists and turns, getting a partial layout of the carrier. I'm creating a map in my head when Phil suddenly stops and says, "We're here." and with that, he gives me a gentle push and I find myself the center of attention of six people, who were obviously arguing before I walked in.

"Ah, you must be Gale," says a black guy in an eye patch and black leather trench coat. I shake his hand and say,

"And you are...?"

"I'm Nick Fury, director of SHIELD," he responds, placing his hand by his side once again. He introduces the other people in the room: Tony Stark, a man of about 5'9, wavy dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a goatee matching his hair color. He also has a thing with a blue glow in the middle of his chest, which must be the infamous arc reactor I've heard about. Next is Bruce Banner, AKA the Hulk, who is about the same height as Stark, with messy almost black hair, dark brown eyes, and is clutching a pair of glasses at the moment. Steve Rogers is introduced next, his patriotic outfit standing out to me most, but he has reddish-blonde hair combed carefully to one side, gray-blue eyes, and a somewhat commanding quality about him, which is I guess why they call him Captain, and he's about 6 feet even: I see him hold his gaze on me and I return the glance, but his eyes flit away and a bit of color rises in his cheeks. I feel something jump slightly in my stomach, but I ignore it. After him is Natasha Romanoff, who has fierce, red hair that falls in bouncy waves, not quite to her shoulders, green eyes, and a very tight suit on: she is about my height, perhaps a bit taller. Last comes Thor, who has blonde hair a bit past his shoulders, blue eyes, and is wearing what can only be described as relaxing armor, because it is the length of a tank top and doesn't seem as heavy as legit armor: he's probably about a foot taller than me.

I shake hands with each of them and apologize,

"Sorry for interrupting."

"Well, we were squabbling like little children before, so thanks for interrupting," replies Fury. A few seconds later, a computer starts beeping and Banner walks over to it. I notice Tony staring at me intently, as if looking for something beneath my features, and I raise my eyebrow, but he quickly looks away. I shrug it off and a few seconds later I hear Dr. Banner say,

"Oh my God." Right after that, there's an explosion that knocks me through one of the glass windows.


	2. Meeting' Agent Barton

I dart up immediately; expecting something to attack, but all I hear is Steve say,

"Put on the suit."

"Yup," responds Tony, both of the scrambling up and running toward me.

"You should come to," I hear Steve say on the way by, grabbing my arm and dragging me along with them. I shake my arm loose and follow close behind them, running through broken glass, metal shrapnel, and small fires everywhere.

"I'll meet you guys at Engine 3," says Tony while dodging a metal beam in his way. Steve and I continue running, I follow close behind him because I have no idea where I'm going and he clears people out of the way better than me. He stops abruptly and I almost crash into him, which probably would have sent us both over the edge, which wouldn't be a huge problem, but still. I'm not sure about the design of the carrier, but I'm pretty sure there isn't supposed to be a giant hole here. I crouch for a moment and prepare to jump but Steve grabs my arm, his large hand wrapping all the way around my arm, and yells,

"What are you doing?!" I yank my arm out of his grip and snap,

"Relax, Spangles: I can fly." I launch myself off the edge and hover there, waiting for Stark. He shows up a second later, wearing his bright, flashy red and gold suit of armor, obviously, and I move aside and let him do his thing.

"Let's see what we got," he says mostly to himself, "I need to get the super conducting cooling system before I can access the rotors and work on dislodging the debris." He shoves a piece of exposed metal back in place and turns to Steve.

"I need you to get to that engine control panel and tell me which relays are in overload position," he commands. He then flies slowly into a small compartment, which I'm guessing will lead to the rotors, and I follow him. I have a faint idea of what he's trying to do, but I can't be sure: I don't know anything about the carrier. I watch him work, engineering not exactly being my forte and, when he's done, he tells me to come with him and I follow.

We get to where the rotor blades are and even I know there shouldn't be these big metal chunks everywhere. I fly over to a rather large one, being about three times the size of myself, and start wriggling it out. I give one final tug and it falls through the remaining blades and plummets to the ground.

"Hey, could you come help me with this?" I hear Tony's voice call, slightly computerized by his suit. I see him working his laser on the largest chunk of debris and I know what he's doing. I fly upward and, once I'm satisfied with the height I'm at, start downward in a steep dive, flipping at the last second so my boots make contact with the metal. It gives an awful screech and it too falls to the ground.

"Alright, that should be good. Cap, see that red lever? When I tell you to, pull it," says Stark, positioning himself on a rotor blade. I fly over to the blade opposite to him, but there is a small platform under one of the blades, so I start there.

"Start pushing," cues Stark and I put all my strength into pushing the blade. It starts moving quite easily, but getting it to go faster was a bit of a struggle, and I eventually have to start flying. After a few minutes, Tony and I get the blade moving fast enough to where the ship starts to level out.

I feel my hands to start to leave the blade I'm pushing and I can't keep up with it, so I aim myself down and make it through the other blades without a hitch, but Tony is still pushing.

"Hey, Stark now might be a good time to stop," I yell, hoping he'll hear me.

"You don't say?!" comes the frantic, sarcastic reply. Not a few seconds later, he comes grinding out of the blades and I see sparks fly from where the blades crush his suit.

"I'm ok!" comes his dazed voice. He flies around like he's drunk and I start giggling and comment,

"Smooth."

"I'm going to go see what was holding Spangles up: Romanoff went after Barton, I suggest you go and help her," he says, while projecting a map of the Helicarrier. I'm not too fond of him telling me what to do, but I am new around here, and I don't want to seem like a jackass.

"They should be somewhere around here," he points, tracing a path that leads to something labeled 'The Cage'.

"Let me guess, it's where they're keeping Loki?" I say, hoping we won't have to deal with him, too.

"Right, good luck," he says, flying awkwardly back to where we left Steve. I fly along the side of the carrier until I find a window close to where I need to be. I fly at it feet first, the glass easily giving way. I catch my balance and begin running as fast and as quietly as I can towards the Cage, hoping to catch the two along the way. I stop suddenly as I hear single person's footsteps, but they're heavy and uneven, as if carrying a weight. It's very dark, but I can still see fine, and I see a guy in a sleeveless leather shirt, pants, and combat boots: he's also carrying a black recurve bow and, slung over his shoulder, was a woman with flaming red hair.

_Natasha_, I think as I silently leap from where I am and slide under the metal railing. I catch up to him quietly and am about to attack when I hear him chuckle and comment,

"You're stealthy, I'll give you that, but can you fight as well as you sneak?" He lets Natasha slide to the ground but keeps his bow in hand, notching an arrow from the quiver slung across his back.

"I'm not scared of you," I say in a hard, steady voice, because I wasn't. He looks at me critically and laughs,

"Where does SHIELD find these people? You're smaller than Tasha, smoking hot, and look as if you won't tip the scale at 100 pounds soaking wet." This is true: I don't have any visible muscle, but I have lean, corded muscle underneath my fair skin. I laugh hollowly, letting him know this has no effect on me, and reply harshly,

"I weigh 114, thanks for asking, and you'd be surprised where they find us." He moves under the light and I see he has honey blond hair, bright, unnatural-looking electric blue eyes, the color of the Tesseract, and huge arms that contrast with the rest of his body, which looks fit, but not as big as his arms.

Without any warning, he has his bowstring tightened and the arrow is flying at me. I sidestep as soon as I hear the string twang, the arrow flying past my face.

"Quick reflexes, too," he observes, realizing that shooting at me is fruitless and takes an offensive stance. He lunges at me, tackling me against the metal railing, his arm crushing my windpipe. If I could, I would gasp, but I kick at his knee instead. This causes his arm to go slack and I slip out from under him. He swings his bow at me and take a step back, feeling the air whiz across my face and I make a lunge for his bow. My hand closes around it and he tries to yank it back, but my grip is firm.

We wrestle with it for a moment and I give a good tug, bringing him closer. I pivot on my heel, turning by back to him, and kick at his stomach. I hear the air leave his lungs and he lets the bow drop. I toss it off to the side and dodge a punch from him. I aim my fist at his jaw, but he catches my elbow and twists it off to the side. I grunt and kick at his ribs, my leg just missing. I catch my balance as his other fist comes toward my face. I parry his fist, this time choosing to kick the back of his knee. His leg caves and I rip my arm out of his grip and, seeing the opportunity, slam his head into the metal railing, knocking him unconscious. He slumps to the ground and I roll my shoulder, it being a bit sore from his twisting.

I walk over to Natasha and start shaking her shoulder. Her eyelids flutter open and widen, not from fear, but from surprise, probably from seeing me instead of Barton standing over her.

"Clint?" she inquires.

"Under control," I point to his unconscious body slumped on the ground.

"You did that?" she asks, a bit disbelievingly.

"Well, it wasn't the invisible ass-kick fairy," I reply sarcastically, offering my hand down to her to help her up.

"I underestimated you," she perceives as I pull her to her feet, "You don't look like much." I try not to be offended as I walk over to Clint.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," I mutter, "He's a good fighter though."

"Yeah, he caught me off guard: I expected him to be a bit slower, a bit out of it, since he was under Loki's mind control. I underestimated him as well," she criticizes herself as we both drag Clint off the ground. We each sling one of his arms over our shoulder and start walking him probably to where there's a place to set him down.

"So what's your story?" she asks suddenly.

"Wha…What do you mean?" I say, caught a bit off guard. I start claming up, like I always do when the topic of my past comes up.

"Well, how'd you catch SHIELD's eye, where did you get your training, why'd you decide join?" she asks, a bit too casually.

"You ask a lot of questions for someone I just met," I observe, glaring over at her.

"I prefer to know who I'm working with," she returns my stare.

"Well, I'm here now, why does it matter where I came from?" I bite back, walking a bit faster so she almost has to jog to keep up.


	3. The Tables Turn

By the time we get Clint to the Medical Wing, he's clammy and muttering in his unconsciousness. I hear Natasha's name tossed around once or twice, and I try to bite back a smile.

"Any particular reason he's doing this?" I ask Natasha.

"Well, he was under Loki's mind control, God-knows what was or is going through his mind," she replies, a bit concernedly.

"Ah," I say as we lower him on the white bed, the sterile smell of the room bringing back memories of my early years in SHIELD. Natasha straps his wrists and ankles to the bed, probably a good idea: he could be psychotic and sadistic still for all we know. I turn around to leave but Natasha says in a low voice,

"Wait." I turn around, not really knowing what to expect from her.

"I'm sorry." Wow; sure as hell wasn't expecting that.

"For what?" I ask, pretending to not know what she's talking about

"For asking about your past: I should've known better when they gave me a file on everyone expect for you. All I got was your name and picture," she says stiffly, but only because I can tell she's not used to apologizing, and I try my hardest not to enjoy it. Hell, we're the only girls in this group: might as well make friends.

"It's fine, really," I forgive her, adding 'really' when I see the look of disbelief cross her face, "Just make sure it doesn't come up again." I say with a mockingly threatening voice. I see her give a hint of a smile out of my peripheral vision as I try to leave once again to check up on Loki's Cage.

"You don't seem half bad, Gale," I hear Natasha say.

"I'll take that as a compliment: you seem ok, too," I say as I exit the room. I retrace me and Natasha's steps that we took to get here and head back along the path Tony showed me to get the Cage. Every distant tread of a boot or shifting piece of metal makes me jump out of my skin, each time thinking Loki's going to pop out at me.

The tension deflates out of me like a balloon when I finally reach the secondary door leading to the Cage. That tension, however, is immediately replaced with confusion as a get a look at what's happening below me. Thor is standing in the Cage, where Loki's supposed to be and Loki is standing by the control panel and I can see his features clearly from here. _He seriously thought that he and Thor were brothers? Does he not own a mirror? _I think to myself. I see a bit of fear in his bright blue eyes, as Agent Coulson is pointing some big ass gun at him. _Jesus, that looks like something out of a sci-fi movie. _I think as my confusion mounts even more as another Loki is sneaking up behind Coulson with the same scepter I saw where I met everyone else. _The hell…? _I think, not having a clue what's going on. Once it actually clicks in my brain that Loki 2 is about to attack Coulson, I launch at him. I can't say he was caught off-guard by this, but he probably didn't expect me to come as quickly at him as I did.

I hear him grunt in surprise as his body collides with the metal floor, but he bounces back quickly, turning his scepter in his hand and aiming it at me. I move my head out of the way just in time and a bolt of bright blue energy shoot out of his scepter. It does, however, hit the supports holding the cell containing Thor in place. There's an insanely loud metal screech as the supports give way and the cell grinds out of the carrier, sending it hurtling towards the hard earth below.

"Shit!" I exclaim as I stupidly turn my attention to what was going on, rather than the god I have pinned under me and I see a glimpse of Coulson shooting Loki 1 with the sci-fi gun. Loki quickly turns the tables on me, easily throwing my small body off of his. My head is the first to hit the ground and my whole body vibrates as stars dance in front of my vision. Loki is on his feet as a cruel smile dances across his face.

"You have heart," he says in a quiet, calculating voice as I feel the cold metal of his scepter touch my chest, right above my heart. His eyes flash a bright red then return to the color of the Tesseract as I feel my own conscious leaving my brain and a robotic, servicing one takes its place. I can't do anything as I hear Loki command me to get up. I feel myself rise from the ground in slow, stiff motions.

"You will now do everything and anything I tell you," I hear Loki's voice and my other conscious programming itself to this function.

"Yes," I reply in a computer-like monotone. _What the hell are you doing?! He's not the commander of you! Fight back! _I scream at the other conscious, but it remains firm.

"Excellent, now, take care of Agent Coulson for me, would you?"

* * *

**Ok, I know this chapter is really short and doesn't make up for the time I've had to work on in, but the next chapter will be fairly long (I hope), so just bear with me! I just started high school and the work amount is unbelievable, so I have about 0 time for anything else…**


	4. When With Loki

The other conscious quickly equips itself to my body and moves like I would, you know if I was in control of my body. At this point, Coulson is preoccupied with shooting about 5 or 6 other clones of Loki with his handgun, so he doesn't notice the real Loki or me approaching him with a command to kill him. I take the knife that I always keep in one of my boots (yes, I am that paranoid: I have one in the other boot and one hidden in my jacket)and without the slightest hesitation, tremor in my hand, plunge the knife into Coulson's chest. _Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit! _I think, trying to impede the other conscious in any way, to no avail.

I see Coulson's eyes spark in confusion as he slides to the ground, back supported against the wall. His blood stains my hand and sleeve and I feel guilt and pain wash though me.

"Very good!" exclaims Loki, admiring my preparedness I guess. _Very good, really?!_

"Thank you," my voice responds, less robotic and more fluent that before.

"If you will accompany me, my dear," he says, extending his hand. The other conscious reacts automatically, taking his hand as he leads my body toward the hole Thor and the Cage disappeared through. _Let go of my hand, you creepy bastard! _I scream, know full well he can't hear me, but it makes me feel kind of better. I hear the low hum of a jet below us and Loki jumps down, dragging me with him. We land softy in the jet and the top hatch closes above us.

"Where to, sir?" the pilot asks Loki, obviously under his influence, also.

"Stark Towers, no rush," he responds nonchalantly, taking a seat on the two-person bench. He pats the seat next to him, but I suppose a part of me still is on the surface, because my body responds the way I would,

"I prefer to stand." He arches his eyebrow at this, clearly surprised at my defiance.

"I'll let you in on a little secret around here: if I merely suggest something to you, you do it," he says in a harsh tone. My body responds automatically, plopping down in the seat next to him. I realize how close I am and, if I could, I would be up and flying like a bat out of hell.

"So, Gale, what can you do?" he asks. _Well, if you know my name, I think you should know what I can do! _"Barton told me they were planning to recruit you, but didn't know anything else beyond that." _Thanks for explaining your creepiness, _I think sarcastically.

"I can fly and fight," I respond, basically summing up everything I'm capable of in five words.

"Ah, you fly: that's perfect for the task I have in mind for you," he says, a mischievous grin crossing his face.

"What do you need me to do?" the head invader asks, prepared to do anything Loki commands.

"When we get to Stark Towers, Tony Stark and his… _disciples _are going to be there shortly after we get there. I want you to leave Stark to me, but the other three will be on a Quinjet following close behind him. I want you to do everything you can to destroy them," he orders, the other conscious understanding and planning to execute every word. _Ah, I see: in basically sending me on a suicide mission, you're hoping I'll eliminate at least one of them in the process. Great plan, expect I don't think you know we know how to beat your little mind control. _I think, hoping they'll know how I knocked Clint, literally, out of Loki's control.

"I understand," I reply simply. We ride the rest of the 5 minutes it takes to get to Stark's building in silence, thankfully.

"Alright, time to go," he sends me off. I crouch and launch myself through the now-open top hatch. _You really don't know what you're getting yourself into._ I try to reason with the other conscious, but it doesn't even acknowledge that I exist. _Fine, your life, _I submit, knowing full well it could be my life, too. I see Tony pass by me in his bright suit. The other conscious, following Loki's command, knows that the other three will pass by, and that's when I'm supposed to attack.

Sure enough, one of SHEILD's small Quinjet's flies by, and I can clearly see Clint and Natasha piloting it. I fly quickly towards it, tackling its left wing. It lurches my way and Clint and Natasha try to shake me off, having little success. I climb up toward the windshield and punch through the glass, slicing my knuckles, but the other conscious pays no heed. Natasha and Clint quickly put the jet down, scaring the hell out of some cab drivers and pedestrians.

The back exit opens in the jet and I hear the voices in the jet,

"Just be careful; and remember, aim for her head," I hear Clint say, "She's a hell of a fighter."

"Got it," replies Steve. He walks out, mask up and shield on his arm.

"Gale, listen to me, you've got to get a hold of yourself," Steve tries to reason with me. _Good luck with that. Trust me, there is no 'reasoning', _I think dejectedly.

"C'mon, you're strong: I know you can fight it," encourages Steve. I try once again, trying to push the alien conscious out of my head, but it still refuses to budge. I slip the knife out of my boot, identical to the one that stabbed Coulson. I see Steve's eyes widen when I pull it out, and it's not from the shock of seeing I had a weapon on me.

I approach him slowly, the other conscious sizing him up and looking for weak points. Steve is the first to engage, swinging his shield at me. I sidestep and swing the knife as I do so, hearing the God-awful screech it makes as it scratches the shield. My hand quickly retracts and I attempt to sweep his legs out from under him, but he hops backwards. I push myself quickly off the ground and rush at him, our next engagement becoming a flurry of fists and feet and blocking fists and feet. I get him once in the jaw and a kick to the back of the knee, each blow sending him a few feet in whichever way. He rammed my stomach with his shield and sent me back flying (uncontrolled) about ten feet, landing on the Quinjet. He also knocked the knife out of my hand very early. In a last ditch attempt, he hurled his shield at me, which I avoid with surprising ease. The other conscious smirks and says,

"You missed." I had also crushed my hand against his shield a few times, at which point I'm sure is broken, and the alien conscious takes this opportunity to rush at him. It doesn't get very far, as Steve's shield ricocheted off a nearby building and was aiming for the back of my head. Pain explodes in my head as the shield makes contact, but not enough to knock me out. I gain control for a second, at which point I scream,

"Keep going!" Then the other conscious takes over and looks up, and the last thing it sees is Steve's clenched fist. _Thank God,_ I think as darkness engulfs me and the other conscious leaves my head and mine takes over its rightful body.

* * *

**Had a lot of extra time to work on this 1.) it's Labor Day Weekend and 2.) I pulled an all-nighter with my friend and finished around 4 last night XD Enjoy!**


	5. Gale's Revenge

"Gale," someone shakes my shoulder, "Gale, wake up." I slowly open my eyes, the control I have over my body again filling me with relief, and sit up, the memories of what just transpired fading away like wisps of smoke, dissolving when I try to cling to them. Something feels off, though; I'm covered in a film of cold sweat, my throat feels raw, as if I was screaming, and my eyes are wet.

"What…happened?" I ask Steve, looking at him with my eyes wide.

"After I knocked you out, I carried you back to the jet; then you started screaming and convulsing. I tried to calm you down, but I couldn't snap you out of it. Then you just stopped, no warning, so I shook you awake. Oh, and you kept repeating the names Hazel and Kevin, if that means anything to you," he responds, looking at me closely. Hazel and Kevin were the people who broke me out of SHIELD, but I just call them mom and dad, because that's pretty much what they were, even if we weren't blood related.

I feel something trickle out of my nose and a use my sleeve to wipe it away. Underneath the fresh blood, I see dried blood that isn't mine, and the memory of Coulson, what I did to him, washes over me like a wave. Guilt and anguish consume me, flowing through me like the blood in my veins. Underneath all those depriving emotions, however, is the burning need for revenge. I stand up, a bit too quickly and all the blood rushes away from my head, clouding my vision with black. My fingernails dig into my palms and I allow the underlying rage to course through me and obliterate the guilt and anguish. Those feelings, however, are neutralized when I feel Steve's steady hand on my shoulder. I take a deep breath and slowly unclench my fists. I look up at the wall of weapons and see a suit hanging by itself on the wall. It resembles Clint's suit, expect it will fit me more like Natasha's, and, rather than a purple arrow on the chest, there is an electric blue slash, reminding me painfully of the color my eyes turned when I was under Loki's spell, beginning at the left hip, stretching all the way around the body, and meeting back at the left hip. It seems like the type of thing to be made of Kevlar, but it is thinner and, like I said, looks like it will conform to my body. Paired with it are a black pair of pants of similar make, shiny black combat boots, fingerless gloves that look like they would reach just below my elbows, and a belt clearly meant to sheath 4 knives, my favorite weapon and the one I am the most skilled with, and a single gun holster.

"Is this mine?" I ask anyone who is willing to answer. Steve nods and I remove the top, pants, and belt from the wall and pick my new boots off the floor.

"Any place I can get some privacy?" I ask, skeptical when I realize how small the jet is. To my surprise, he points to a small door between the cockpit and the cargo area. I walk toward it, feeling odd; being up in the sky but having something solid under my feet, as I felt on the Helicarrier. I grip the handle of the gray door and slide it into the other wall, revealing an empty room that is only about 6 by 6 and clearly only meant for extra storage space. I slide the door back in place and shrug my jacket off. It falls to the floor; the dull thud that resounds reminds me that I still have a knife hidden in it. I kneel next to it, folding my legs under me, and pull the knife out when I feel my hand close around the handle. I slide its sheath off, the knife being identical to the ones I fought Steve and killed Coulson with. I quickly slide it back in its sheath and throw it back in my jacket, as if that will hide it from me. I swiftly strip down, my long hair tickling my exposed back and the cool air wreathing around me, sending goose bumps crawling along my skin.

Quickly, I pull on the Kevlar suit and zip up my new combat boots. The suit is tight, but not uncomfortably so and my movement is free. I clip the belt around my waist and am surprised when I find it doesn't slide around too much on my small form. I hastily rake my hair up in a ponytail with a black hair tie I always keep around my wrist and leave my old clothes, knife and boots on the floor, hopefully never to be seen again. I slide open the door, feeling somewhat of a sensation of power and pride as I walk out. I slide the door closed and start toward the wall of weapons. With a quick sweep of my eyes, I see Steve staring absentmindedly out a window and Clint and Natasha are piloting the jet, engaged in a conversation which I respectfully tune out.

When my back is turned, I see Clint, out of my peripheralvision, throw something at me. I snatch it out of the air, not even turning his direction, and wave it teasingly in his direction.

"You missed." He smirks and returns to piloting the jet, reengaging in his conversation with Natasha. I examine the object in my hand and see its sort of Bluetooth, but its flesh colored and smaller, so it'll fit right in the hole in my ear.

Pushing it to my ear, I continue over to the wall where all the weapons are and I select two knives with whose weight, length, and balance I am most familiar with and slide them in the two front sheaths. Then I select two double-edged, longer, more slender and sharper ones that will slice through skin and muscle with ease. I also slide two smaller ones into my boots, just in case. I also remove a 9mm from the gun wall and slide it into the last holster, even though guns aren't my forte and I probably won't use it, it wouldn't hurt to have around.

Then my eyes rest on the gloves that I almost forgot about, hanging solitarily on the wall. Sliding them on my arm, they feel heavier than they should be and, after a cursory examination, I spot a small red button. When I press it, a single blade exposes itself out of my each of my hands, extending about a foot past my knuckles. I grin, hand-to-hand combat being one of my stronger points. Another push of the button retracts the blades and I join Steve on the small bench as New York blurs below us. Looking at his face, I notice things that weren't there before: the dark blue ring around his light-colored irises, the way his nose hooks a bit at the end, the way his eyebrows arch slightly toward his nose, making him look deep in thought, the bruise blossoming on his jaw, which I guess I put there, and a certain timid quality about him, which I find surprising, but then I remember he was one of the little people before he was injected with his super steroids, kind of like I was.

_I guess we're pretty similar: created for the benefit of others. Expect, I was made for more of a protector, me and any others they could create, and he was made to be an enforcer; a solider. I even think I remember them saying something about my abilities being about equal to his, expect for the flying part, _I completely zone out as these thoughts race through my mind, and I guess Steve noticed me looking at him, because when I come back, his blue eyes are on my violet ones. I feel heat rise in my cheeks as I think,

_Dammit, Gale, you're about to go out there and kill stuff; this is no time to let your mushy feelings come to the surface. _I nervously flit my eyes away, seeing a faint smile cross his face.

"Get ready, you guys," says Clint, the amusement laced in his voice suggesting he saw the whole thing. Steve heaves himself off the bench and slides his red and silver shield on his arm, a lone, white star decorating the middle and surrounded by a small portion of blue. He walks to the front of the jet, and I follow close behind him. He is considerably taller than me, but I hardly notice tall people anymore. I come up on his left and look out the glass, seeing a bright blue beam, the same color of the magic that controlled me, shooting up into the sky and several shapes flooding out of it.

We then dive down, closer to the street and weaving between buildings. I feel something shift under my feet and I see Tony fly by, a bunch of the Chitauri on his tail. The gun takes out most of them that I can see, but we fly into another horde, only managing taking out a few. We trace the flood of aliens to its source, which is Stark Tower, and see Loki and Thor fighting on a curving platform at the front of the building. Hatred bubbles to the surface, and all I can do not to launch out of the jet and massacre him. My feelings must be showing on my face because Steve looks over at me nervously, probably hoping I won't do anything stupid, which is doubtful.

Suddenly, the jet heaves, sending me crashing onto Steve and the it starts spiraling and we start lose altitude. He lunges up and grips a metal rod on the roof of the jet, grabbing my wrist and heaving me up there with him.

"This is why I hate flying in planes," I complain, seeing Steve's lips curve into a small smile out of the corner of my eye. Natasha and Clint are held steady by their seat belts, but Steve and I might as well be piñatas at a kid's birthday party. Thankfully we crash into the ground (wow, never thought I'd say that), and Clint and Natasha quickly undo their seat belts and scramble out of their seats. I have to drop about a foot from the metal rod, but Steve only has to stretch down with is feet to touch the ground.

Clint snatches his bow off the wall and slings his quiver across his back; my ears twitch as the high-pitched police sirens wail all around us. Steve throws his winged hood over his head as we maneuver over broken concrete, small fires, and large shards of broken glass everywhere.

"We gotta get back up there!" Steve shouts behind him, referring to Stark Tower, over the sound of chaos. I could easily get up there myself, but it would be my guess that Steve would rather have me stay down with them; I haven't exactly proven myself trustworthy yet. We dodge our way between cars, most of them being cabs, and screaming people as we reach a large stone building with an interesting design that probably means something, but it's probably going to get blown up anyway, so who cares, but a peculiar sight stops us dead in our tracks. We all gaze up like small children, dumbfounded, by a giant space...centipede that makes its way through the portal and is…flying or hovering somehow. Explanation: aliens.

"Huh: well, that's a first," are the first words out of my mouth. It slithers, I guess, toward the ground and passes not five feet from my face. It banks upward and several more of Chitauri deploy themselves out of its armor and latch onto nearby buildings, a good majority crashing through windows. A bunch more follow behind the centipede, expect on hover…scooter…things.

"Stark, are you seeing this?" Steve asks.

"Seeing: still working on believing," comes his reply in my earpiece, "Where's Banner? Has he shown up yet?" he continues.

"Banner?" replies Steve, confused.

"Just keep me posted," replies Stark, his exasperation obvious.

"Ok, now-" Steve begins, but his words are cut off as we are bombarded by more Chitauari. We move quickly and hunker down on the side of a cab.

"We've got civilians trapped inside-" Stark's voice comes in my earpiece again, but this time he's cut off by another fly-by, blue energy flying everywhere, destroying everything it touches within a 20 foot diameter, and I can clearly see Loki at the lead on his scooter…thing, expect he has his armor on and his helmet reminds me of retarded wildebeest. At that instant, my control that kept me from launching out of the plane and massacring Loki snaps like a small twig and I say in a low, somehow controlled tone,

"I'm going after him." I stand up and bunch my muscles under me, but Steve grabs my arm and looks at me seriously, but his voice is strained,

"Are you crazy?! He'll turn you into a slave again, or kill you or…" he makes his point. Did he have to say again?

"Yes to your question and he's not going to turn me into a slave this time: his little magic stick is mine," I vow and, seeing that even he can't stop me, reluctantly releases my arm. I take off in hot pursuit of Loki, closely trailing the band of Chitauri following behind him. I quickly spot a small gap in his barrage, and I fly speedily between the scooters, but Loki's ready for me. He fires a blast of energy at me, but I drop down and it hits one of his escorts, sending him spiraling down in flames to the pavement below. I put on a burst of speed and crash into the sorcerer, sending us both off his hover scooter, which crashes into a building and bursts into flames.

He grins menacingly at me and says,

"If you want to defeat me, you're going to have to do more that tackle me out of the sky." I furrow my eyebrows and push the button to extend the blades from my hand.

"Don't worry; I plan to," comes my voice, the various emotions behind it obvious. He launches at me, bringing down his scepter toward my head. I sidestep quicker than he anticipates and jump away from him, landing a few feet to his right. He retaliates quickly and fires from his scepter, expecting to hit me easily, but I jump up and hover as the beam hits a cab, sending it about 15 feet in the air, crashing to earth again in a great fireball. I snap my attention back to him and make a dive for his legs, and he jumps up just in time. Suddenly, a hot, searing pain slices down my left arm, causing me to gasp and I barely land on my my arm and feel my own blood well between my fingers and I see a single drop of my blood roll down the tip of Loki's scepter and fall to the ground.

_Oh, hell no! _I think as a bloodthirsty scream tears past my lips and I launch myself at his midsection, my velocity surprising him and I hear the satisfying crunch of his metal as his back hits the pavement. His arms are pinned under my legs, and I punch his face as hard as I can, feeling his nose crack under my knuckles. I should stop there, but as I said before, my self-control isn't exactly in check at the moment, so I continue wailing on him.

_Gale, that's enough, _I hear a voice at the edge of my consciousness say. It's faint, but stern, and my arm freezes in mid-air, then drops to my side. His face is cut in many places just from the sheer force of my blows, but if I was beating the crap out of a normal human, his face wouldn't even be in existence anymore. Blood is dripping from the gash of my arm and it falls on Loki's chest plate with a faint pang. Instead of fear in Loki's eyes, I only see amusement, as if this is just a game. I remember reading something in his file that SHIELD sent me, along with all the members of the Avengers, that Loki is Thor's brother, at least he grew up with him, so this probably does seem like child's play to him.

"I am a god, if you expect to-" I cut him off by pressing my blade against his throat, feeling his skin threaten to break if I push any harder.

"You know, I've heard a lot of stuff about gods being immortal and stuff; neither blade, age, or disease claiming their lives," I lean toward his ear for dramatic effect, "I think that's bullshit."

Now fear leaps into his eyes, but he quickly suppresses it, a sly grin crossing his face.

"Then you have much to learn." His staff suddenly appears in his hand, even though I'm sure I knocked it out of his hand; obviously not. He aims it at my bad arm and fires, sending a whole new level of pain coursing through my arm. I throw myself off of him and clamp down on my lip to suppress a cry of pain, bracing myself for his next attack. He leaps up in the air and brings his scepter down toward my head, but I cross my blades before it can crush my fragile skull in. The shock of pressure on my arm causes my knees to weaken initially, but I manage hold myself steady. He presses down harder, my weak arm causing me to lose in this test of pure strength. He is bringing me to my knees, but suddenly there's a burst of white light, originating from where my blades and his scepter make contact. I am forced down into the concrete below and Loki flies off somewhere else. My vision goes black for a few moments, but I stay awake and attempt to push myself up, but fail. A light catches my eye and I look down at my hands, stunned at my findings. Instead of the dull, gray gleam of the metal that was previously there, my blades are a white and look like the swirling energy of the Tesseract, only more solid. Other than that, they're the unchanged; same shape, length, weight.

My head clears considerably after a few moments of relaxing, but it only makes the throbbing in my arm even more noticeable. I push myself off the ground with my good arm and see Loki walking away, assuming me to be dead or at least out cold.

"I'm not finished with you yet!" I shout at him. He whirls around and I see shock cross his face as I stand at the edge of the crater that had formed around me.

"This fight was amusing at first, but this is getting ridiculous," he spits at me, crossing the distance between us in a few long strides. He swings his scepter at my weak side and I parry it with my good arm, crossing it over my body. I twist halfway around and push his scepter away, twisting quickly while swinging my foot through the air. It hits the crook of his elbow and his arm drops, leaving his body exposed. I jump up and kick hard off his chest, grabbing the horns on his helmet on my way over. It was looser than I expected and only jerks his head back a bit before it slips off his head. At least it's exposed now. I discard it to the side carelessly and turn to face him. He swings his scepter around and I step back, feeling a small tickle of wind as it passes just in front of my nose. I stab at him with my right arm, at which point he brings his scepter back around and blocks it, our weapons locked in that position.

Taking a risky move, I stab at him with my weak arm, but predictably it spasm, leaving the left side of my body exposed, which Loki quickly takes advantage of. Balancing on his heel, he kicks at my open side with his boot. Normally, that blow would have shattered bones, but I'm made of tougher stuff than that, and only get the wind knocked out of me. I, nonetheless, gasp and clutch at my side. I see a flash of gold and Loki smashes the end of his scepter against my jaw, sending me sprawling on the ground. _Get up, you've dealt with worse, _I command myself, but I retreat back to the ground as the tip of Loki's scepter buries itself in my chest, sending an involuntary chill through my body.

"You see? You are nothing but a little girl," he hisses on the last word, "In way over her head." It's true; my small stature and youthful face betray my actual age, making me appear to be about 5 years younger than I actually am. I wish the ground would swallow me up; anything would be better than the situation I'm in at the moment. _Well, this is it; I just hope he kills me right now and doesn't make me kill anyone again, like he did with Coulson…_Coulson. The thought of him pumps a deadly amount of adrenaline through my body, for normal people anyway, and, faster than Loki can comprehend, I seize his scepter and thrust it at his face, colliding it against his annoying large forehead. The scepter clatters to the ground as his shock causes him to drop it. With the pain in my arm obliterated, I leap up off the ground and aim a spin kick at his chest. My foot hardly dents the armor, but I hear his gasp. Landing with my back to him, I spin around and punch under his jaw and hear my hand give a distinctive pop, but I hardly feel it. He stumbles backwards, hand on his chin, and tries to brace himself for my next attack, but he's too slow.

Snatching his scepter off the ground, I charge at him, bashing the butt of it against his chest plate. This time it caves to the blow, crushing the adamantine metal against his chest. He falls backwards and lays on the ground, the crushed metal constricting his airway. God or not, he still needs to breath. I feel the blood run down my arm, falling over my glove and trickling to the ground, but I don't feel the pain that should be associated with it. Looking down at it, the exposed skin is either cut deeply or burned badly and the smell of my own charred flesh makes my chest tighten with disgust. My heart is racing and my breaths are quick and heavy, but I manage to get out, through gritted teeth,

"That was for Coulson."


	6. Shawarma

**Ok, so, a little warning: there's a good amount of violence in this chapter, but what's a good final battle without glorified violence? Enjoy! (chapter named for obvious reasons)**

* * *

After popping my dislocated knuckles back into place, I begin flying shakily back to where the others are…wherever that may be. I just follow the train of mangled Chitauri, the musky scent of their dark blue blood lacing with the city smells of New York. Suddenly, my vision goes black and I drop out of the sky, crashing into the ground. Luckily, I wasn't flying very high and the impact with the ground jars me awake. Sitting up and shaking my head to clear the blackness that still lurks the edge of my vision, I notice that my arm is absolutely pouring blood and the burn looks worse. _Weird...wounds usually stop bleeding by now_, I think as I push myself up off the ground, wobbling a bit. I shuffle over to the nearest car, which is an old Honda Accord, and swing Loki's scepter down on the trunk like a hammer. It caves to the blow, disassembling the internal lock, and I throw it open. Buried under a bunch of random crap, I find what I'm looking for: a first-aid kit. After retracting my blades, which they still do despite the change in their form, I pop the kit open and locate the rubbing alcohol, sutures, and gauze. I dump the bottle of alcohol on my arm and, and, after further inspection in the trunk, I locate a jacket and rip off one of the sleeves, using it as a tourniquet.

I tie the sleeve as tight as it will go around my arm, wiping the blood off my arm with the rest of the jacket, and shove a bunch of tongue depressors in my mouth. I begin warily sewing the wound together, lacing the flesh together as if it was a tear in a fabric. About half of the sticks in my mouth snap as soon as I bite down, but the rest hold steady enough. After I finish, I spit the wood out of my mouth and snap the tough thread with my teeth. I wrap my arm in a thin layer of gauze, an insubstantial shield for the delicate sutures, and loosen the tourniquet from my shoulder. By now, blood is pumping evenly through my body again and I feel more awake. Before I take off, however, I touch my fingers to my neck and feel the smooth leather of my choker necklace that Hazel and Kevin gave to me just after they broke me out of SHIELD. It's pretty simple: a black band with a silver medallion in the middle with the Japanese symbols for 'fighter'. After the assurance that it hasn't been ripped off, I take off once again, following the craters that Loki made with his scepter.

Steve, Clint, and Natasha are right where I left them, only fighting off a bunch of the Chituari. I'm just about to join in on the attack, but a flash of movement in the sky and a bolt of lightning indicate that Thor is coming to fight with us. He fries the remaining Chituari and lands, staggering against the side of a cab. I smile and drop out of the sky, landing lightly next to Clint. He instinctively has an arrow notched and loaded, pointing at my heart. Faster than he can react, I snatch the sleek black arrow off his string and hold it away from him. His arms however are longer than mine, and he snatches it back, re-notching it and nodding at me.

"You actually got it?" I hear Steve's awed voice.

"Yeah, I actually did. That son of a bitch wasn't gonna beat me this time," I reply.

"I'm surprised you could best my brother so easily. But I see he did give you battle wounds," comes Thor's booming voice, straightening up quickly from the cab.

"Oh, yeah. That'll heal, though," I dismiss the matter.

"Anyway, what's the story upstairs?" asks Steve.

"The power surrounding the Cube is impenetrable," responds Thor, walking over to us.

"Thor's right. We gotta deal with these guys," Stark butts in.

"How do we do this?" asks Natasha.

"As a team," responds Steve firmly.

"I have unfinished business with Loki," says Thor, looking up towards Stark Tower.

"Yeah? Well get in line," mutters Clint, screwing arrow tips back on his arrows.

"Save it. Loki's going to keep this fight focused on us, and that's what we need. Without him, these things could run wild. We've got Stark up top. He's gonna need us to…"

Everyone suddenly whips around at the sound of a low, rumbling noise. A few seconds later, we see Bruce cruising in on an old brown Moped. Something about the sight amuses me. Now that I think about it, why wasn't he here in the first place? As he dismounts the bike and comes to meet us, he comments,

"So, this all seems horrible."

"I've seen worse," Natasha replies skeptically.

"Sorry," Bruce apologizes.

"No," amends Natasha, "We could…use a little worse. Now that Gale has Loki's scepter, hopefully the advantage will fall toward us."

"Wait, you got Antlers' magic wand?" Stark's voice comes in all of our earpieces.

"Yes I did," I reply, "Oh, and Banner just showed up."

"Great, then tell him to suit up: I'm bringing the party to you," says Stark. His words make me nervous, and, not two seconds later, my nerves are realized as he rounds the corner, the giant space creature following close behind him.

"I…I don't see how that's a party," says Natasha as Thor grips his hammer and bares his teeth in a snarl. I shift the scepter in my hand so it's pointed in the direction of the imamate threat. Bruce turns his head in the direction of the disturbance and walks toward it and I lower my weapon.

"Doctor Banner," says Steve, taking one step forward, "Now might be a really good time for you to get angry."

"That's my secret, Captain," pause for dramatic effect, "I'm always angry." And with that reassuring statement, he Hulks out and crushes the front of the creature into the ground, stopping it dead in its tracks. But, physics be damned, the creature flips over itself, threatening to crush those of us who aren't rage monsters.

"Hold on!" Stark tells us as he launches a missile at a gap in the armor that now exists. Turning away from the falling chunks of debris and covering my head, I feel a body close by me and I look up to see Steve holding his invincible shield above both of our heads. The portion of the space creature that was going to crush us landed about 15 feet behind us. Both of us straighten at the same time as the Chitauri that were infiltrating the buildings lean out the window and utter hideous war cries at us that make my ears twitch with irritation. But, because it would be too convenient if there was just one of the monsters, a few more come slithering out of the portal to space, along with more hordes of Chitauri.

"Guys," Natasha warns everyone else.

"Call it, Captain," says Stark, surprising me when he doesn't take charge. I guess he's more of a blast stuff than developing-strategies person.

"Alright, listen up," begins Steve. "Until we can close that portal, our priority is containment. Barton," Clint turns his head to Steve, "I want you on that roof: eyes on everything. Call out patterns and strays. Stark, you've got the perimeter. Anything more than three blocks out, you turn it back or turn it to ash."

"Wanna give me a lift?" Barton turns to Stark.

"Right; better clench up, Legolas," replies Tony, walking over to Barton and grabbing him by his vest, taking off as soon as his grip is firm.

"Thor," the god of thunder turns his head to Steve, "You gotta try to bottleneck that portal: slow 'em down. You got lightning: light the bastards up." Thor starts swinging his hammer around and around and uses its momentum to take off to the blue sky.

"Gale, you, me, and Widow will stay on the ground; keep the fighting here."

"Are you sure you don't want me in the skies?"

"No, stay down here," he affirms. I'm not overly fond of being told what to do, but I go along with it; I'm not the best strategizer, either. "Oh, and Hulk," Hulk whips his head to Steve, "Smash." Hulk grins and gives a mother of all leaps, landing near the top floor on a building and smashing any Chituari in his reach. I push the button on my glove, extending my blades, and prepare for the next battle.

A group of about a dozen Chituari form a circle around the three of us remaining in the street. All of us stand still for a moment, until I snap the tension by sliding a knife out of my belt and planting it in the exposed face of one of the aliens beside me. As it crumples to the ground, five rush at me and the other six charge Steve and Natasha. I take one out with a blast from Loki's scepter and brace myself for the next four, dropping it after I fire so I can fight easier. One swings its spear at my head and I duck under it, catching myself on both my arms. Pain shoots up my injured arm, but I ignore it and thrust myself back up, my feet making contact with the chest plate of my attacker. I bury one of my other knifes in it its neck before it hits the ground and push off of it, flipping so I face the remaining three.

Two of the remaining three rush at me, swinging their spears madly. I swing myself under one and yank it out of the creature's hand, causing it to face plant into the ground. I swing the weapon bluntly at the other one, feeling the metal crunch under my blow. While that one's distracted, I drive the spear into the one on the ground, leaving the alien weapon it its corpse. The one with the crunched metal drives its spear toward my stomach and I smack it forcefully out of the way with my blade. Unfortunately, I block it with my weak arm and the alien quickly sweeps his weapon in a circle, bringing tears into my eyes. I quickly blink them back and block another blow with my right arm. I slide my hand closer to the spear, grabbing it and pulling the creature toward me. I kick at its wrist and it drops the weapon, letting out a hiss of pain. I pull it closer to me, the mere proximity of it irking me, and stab it through the gut. I pull it out and face the lone Chituari still left. It looks at me hesitantly and fires a blast from its weapon. I reflexively throw up my arm over my face, surprised to find that the new blade form merely absorbed the energy blast. I grin and rush at it, deflecting two of its blows, knocking the weapon out of its hand and driving my blade through its chin.

Turning back to the aliens corpses, I pull my two knives out. I sweep around, looking for Steve and Natasha. I see Steve fighting off two of them and I run over, stabbing one through the back while he slams the other one's face with his shield.

"Damn aliens," I mutter as I pull my blade out of the body, letting it crumple to the ground. I walk back over to the five that I took care of and pick up Loki's scepter.

"Where'd Widow go?" I ask him, seeing the red-headed spy nowhere.

"Up there," he points to a bridge above us. I take off, leaving him to find his own way up. She's taking on a single Chitauri and it has her pinned against a car. I dive down and drive the scepter through its chest, the tip only a few inches from Natasha's face. Her eyes widen as I retract the golden tip, dragging the body off her.

"Thanks," she mutters, a bit out of breath. We both whip our heads around at a sudden noise, but relax when we see it's only Steve.

"Captain, none of this is gonna mean a damn thing if we don't close that portal," she comments, all three of our heads turning to the black hole in the middle of the bright blue sky, several more of the invaders flooding out of it.

"Our biggest guns couldn't touch it."

"What about this?" I ask, holding the scepter out.

"Yeah, I suppose that could work. It is Loki's portal, after all," Steve points out.

"But Selvig's design," Natasha counters.

"Do you have any better ideas?" I ask her.

"No not really. You or me?"

"Be my guest," I thrust the spear at her. She takes it from my hands like it's a bomb.

"Give me a ride?" she asks.

"Sure, don't let go, though," I warn her, even if it is unnecessarily. I grab her free arm and take off, the extra weight not really affecting me. I maneuver through a stream of Chitauri on their hover things and a few break off to follow us.

"Awesome," I mutter, "Can you fire them?" I yell over the wind.

"I can try!" she yells back, turning slightly to get a better shot. After several attempts and a few blasts from the enemies that came too close for comfort, she managed to hit the last one, sending the scooter crashing into a cab on the street, where it bursts into flames. I breathe a sigh of relief and angle toward the bright blue beam in the sky. Just when I think I'm home free, Natasha suddenly yells,

"Watch out!" I go dead in the air and drop, seeing a blast of blue energy fly by me that probably would've taken my head with it. I pull back up and face our attacker, only seeing that it's Loki.

"God dammit, not him again," I mutter. I look around me and suddenly shoot of a different streen "Got any brilliant ideas?" I ask, not expecting an answer.

"Yeah, I do actually," she replies, "Hawkeye!" she yells into her earpiece.

"Umm…what are you guys doing?" Barton asks.

"Actually, I was hoping we could order some Chinese take-out, what do you think we were doing?" I retort sarcastically. I look up and see a figure, Hawkeye, on the roof of a taller building. I also see the top of Stark Tower, where the Tesseract device is perched.

"I got him," I hear Hawkeye in my earpiece. I turn sharply around the corner and bank upwards toward the roof. I look behind me, just in time to see Loki's scooter explode and him sprawled out on the curving platform in front of Stark Tower. I grin and drop Natasha as soon as we're over the white graveled space that is the roof.

After seeing that she lands safely, I drop down to the curved platform to see if Loki was up for Round Two, but I hear a roar and I see the Hulk snatch him up and throw him into Tony's building. I figure that the Hulk can fend for himself pretty well against Loki. Turning around, I start heading back in the direction I came, flying low so I could spot people easily in the street. Not long after, I see Steve and Thor fighting off a bunch of the beasts. I double my speed as a blast hits Steve in the stomach. He falls forward and I see Thor about to smash a car into the group of five that are approaching, but he stops once he sees me drive one of my knives through the top of one of their heads. I pull it out and throw it at the one right behind it, impaling it in the eye. Two of them try to stab me at the same time, but I jump backwards, grabbing both of their weapons and bashing their heads together painfully. I fire one of the spears at the remaining one, sending it back flying about ten feet. For assurance, I stab both of the creatures I bashed heads with. Two more drop down, but they each have a knife sticking out of their faces before they can react. I re-sheath my knives and walk over to Thor, who is helping Steve off the ground.

"You fight most…ferociously. Especially for one so small," he says, looking at me with a bit of surprise in his blue eyes.

"I'll try to take that as a complement," I reply, turning my attention to Steve, whose costume and stomach are now charred. "You good?" I ask. I pretend to ask it casually, but, speaking from experience, blasts from those weapons hurt like hell. He lost the blue mask that he had on earlier, leaving his face rather dirty.

"Yeah," he replies.

"Good, we've got a lot more to go," I say, a bit begrudgingly. Thor summons his hammer and I walk over to a cab, sitting on its hood while waiting for the next onslaught. Steve joins me, leaning against the cab with a hand on his stomach. I practically leave my skin at the sound of a voice, but its only Natasha in my ear.

"I can close it. Can anybody copy?" she pauses for a second, "Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down."

"Do it!" exclaims Steve, straightening up from the cab.

"No, wait," comes Stark's voice.

"Stark, these things are still coming."

"I've got a nuke comin' in. It's gonna blow in less than a minute." He pauses for a few seconds. "And I know just where to put it." Wait, a nuke? Why the _hell _is there a nuke heading toward us?!

"Stark," begins Steve, "You know that's a one-way trip."

"Save the rest for the turn, J." A few seconds later, I hear a low humming and Stark charges by us, holding the white missile that will kill us all if he can't get it out in time. He bounces a bit off Stark Tower, but otherwise goes up the blue beam pretty steadily. I practically collapse with relief as I see him and the missile disappear in the portal. I lay against the windshield of the cab, placing my hands on the top of my head. Now all he has to do is somehow get back. Even though I've only these people for a bit, there's just something about battling an army of creatures otherwise unknown that forms a special type of bond between people…and gods. I leap off the cab and stand with my back to Thor and Steve, seeing the Chitauri starting to form around us again. All of a sudden, they all just…die. Or power down or something.

I look up and see a light orange color in the portal, rather than the black of space. The nuke exploded. Steve looks down at me and then over at Thor, and says the words I was dreading,

"Close it." A few seconds later, the blue beam vanishes and the portal begins shrinking: still no Stark. But, just before it disappears completely, a glimmering form falls out of the now non-existent hole.

"Son of a gun," states Steve simply, summing up all my thoughts perfectly. We all gaze up aghast, then I realize: he's not doing anything, expect for falling.

"He's not slowing down," Thor says, starting to swing his hammer around. But, before he can take off, a wild Hulk appears and snatches him out of the air. He collides with the building, using his free arm to try and reduce his fall. He realizes it's pointless and pushes off, turning so that he doesn't crush Tony under his large, green body. He crushes an orange car and slides about ten feet before stopping, tossing Tony off his body and onto the ground.

Thor, Steve and I starting running to the beast and the man, sincerely hoping Tony's not dead. Thor flips Tony on his back as soon as he reaches him, Steve and I close behind him.

"Is he breathing?" Steve asks no one in particular. Thor rips off the gold mask, tossing it off to the side. Looking down at him, not even the familiar blue glow of the arc reactor in his chest is on. I kneel down by his head and put my ear next to his lips. Nothing. Not even a whisper. I sit back on my feet and I feel like someone just placed the weight of the world on me. None of us know how to get his armor off and, even if we did, it would be fruitless. Not knowing what else to do, I lean against Steve's shoulder and allow a single tear to slip past my eyelid and down my cheek, feeling it cut a path of moisture down my face. Hulk straightens up, still looking at Tony, and breathes heavily. Out of nowhere, he roars at the top of his lungs, causing me to straighten up as if I'd been shocked. Tony's eyes snap open and he's gasping, as well he should be.

I feel the weight lifted off my shoulders as the arc reactor's glow returns to his chest, Hulk's triumphant roar expressing how I feel.

"What the hell…?" are the first words out of his mouth. I look over and see Thor's lips form a small grin. "What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me. Although, I wouldn't particularly mind if Gale…"

"Not even if you were actually dead, Stark," I reply harshly.

"We won," says Steve, the realization dawning on me. We actually won. Tony sighs and says,

"All right, yay! Hurray. Good job guys. Let's just not come in tomorrow. Let's just…take a day." No arguments there. "Have you ever tried shawarma? There's a shawarma joint about two blocks from here." I look over at Steve and see him smile with amusement. "I don't know what it is, but I wanna try it."

"So, you just died. Normally people have some life-changing epiphany, but yours is you want to try shawarma," I confirm.

"Yup, pretty much," is his reply. I chuckle a bit, but Thor kinda kills the mood when he says,

"We're not finished yet."

"But shawarma after?" Tony asks.

* * *

**There will be more story after this, so bear with me! I don't know when the next chapter will be up, nor how long it will be, so just stick with me! Pardon any spelling, grammer, etc. mistakes: I do most of my typing late at night. Let me know what you think!**

**-Pyro**


	7. Wrong Decision? Probably

"Toss me a packet of ketchup, will ya?" Clint asks me, looking over in my direction across the table. I dig around the various pouches of mustard, mayo, even relish, until I locate the small red pouch. I throw it across the table and he easily snatches it out of the air, tearing the package and squeezing its contents onto his fries. I glace over at everyone else at the table in the now-destroyed shawarma joint: I sit between Steve, who is nonchalantly picking at his fifh order of food, and Thor, who is well through his seventh. Somehow I got stuck in between the people who eat the most. Next to Thor is Tony, who seems more interested in his drink rather than, you know, the food he specifically dragged us here to eat. Clint sits on the other side of Bruce, who had Hulked down, thank God, when we retrieved Loki (who is now locked away in a spare room), and borrowed one of Tony's band T-shirts and a pair of his jeans. He is also wearing his thinly-framed glasses again and the kind expression had returned to his face. Clint has himself oriented so one of his legs is propped up on Natasha's chair with his food in his lap. I rest my head on my hand and pick up a fry, chewing it lazily.

"Another!" Thor's booming voice suddenly sounds, causing me to almost fall out of my chair and fall on my ass.

"Thor, I swear to God, if you do that one more time, I am going to lock you in the closet with Loki," Tony threatens, "This isn't Asgard: we actually have to ask people when we want something."

"My apologies, man of iron," Thor tilts his head to the side, still confused at the notion even though we've explained it to him seven times before. I wave the owner of the restaurant, a woman by the name of Alice, over to the table. Tony promised to pay for all the damages to the store if we ate for free, which she happily obliged to.

"The blond one needs another order. And another vodka and Red Bull for me," I tell the proprietor. She nods and gives Thor an odd look before retreating back into the kitchen with her husband.

"So, Gale, what's your deal?" Tony suddenly asks me, almost causing me to choke on my bite of shawarma. I take a sip of my drink, which is now pretty much water with a slightly alcohol-tinted flavor.

"Why the sudden interest?" I ask, arching my eyebrow.

"Well, unless you all got something different, all I got was a picture and your name. No info, no background, nothing," he informs me, sipping his drink and looking at me intently, "And there's the fact that you can fly, which is cause for explanation."

"Maybe there's a reason," I glare away from him.

"Yeah, as much as I hate to, I agree with Tony on this one," pipes up Steve. I see Natasha's eyes widen a bit, obviously remembering me blowing up at her last time the subject of my past came up.

"Same here," agrees Clint. I look at Bruce, him being the tie-breaker.

"I suppose I'm with them on this one," he sides with everyone else, shooting me an apologetic glance. I suppose I don't blame them: I would do the same thing if I was in their positions.

"Well, I had pretty much the opposite of a normal childhood: my biological mother donated me as a fertilized egg to SHIELD, and they did God-knows what to me in that state, so I could fly and such. They _raised _me, if you could call it that. The first fourteen years of my life were nothing but tests, experiments, stuff like that. No break, no mercy, that is, until my 'adoptive' parents broke me out and, since they worked for SHIELD, knew how to fly under their radar, literally, I went to school for about half a year, until my 'dad' was murdered," I leave out the part out about the group that abducted me for some reason I can't explain, "and after that, my mom and I moved around a lot. There was a car accident that killed her, but it seemed too suspicious to me, so I flew down to Florida where I've been living for the past ten years. SHIELD wanted me to be a part of this group: here I am," I summarize, glancing at all of them as their brains soak it all in.

"Why?" asks Steve, focusing his blue eyes on me.

"Why what?"

"Why did you decide to come back?" I think about it for a second, then reply,

"Life gets kind of boring when you don't have a specific purpose to live. I felt like I needed to do something with myself, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do it."

"Do you know why SHIELD made you in the first place?" inquires Bruce, looking at me with his deep brown eyes.

"I know they based their…experiment off of what they did to Cap, with some obvious alterations. They wanted to create more like me after they ensured I was successful, physically capable of whatever they threw at me. I suppose they had done this several times before, and I was their first success," I answer as best I can.

"Interesting," he replies. I raise my eyebrow, wondering exactly what is so interesting, but before I can ask, Tony interrupts,

"What did they do to you at SHIELD?"

"I'd really prefer not talking about it," I glare at him, images of test tubes, needles, monitors, and men in white lab coats flash through my mind painfully. Alice comes back with my drink, which I take a deep drink of, and Thor's eighth order, which he attacks eagerly.

"C'mon, what could they possibly have done to you?" he pushes further.

"It's none of your business," I retort sharply, roughly slamming my drink on the table. Everyone has stopped eating and drinking and has their undivided attention focused fully on the argument between me and Tony.

"It can't be that bad. I mean, they are the government, after all," he prods, leaning forward, "They are restrained by certain laws."

"Jesus, Tony, can't you take a God damn hint?" I snap, shoving my chair back and turning toward the exit of the joint.

"Who is this 'Jesus'?" asks a confused Thor. Before I hear anyone explain, I throw the door open and slam it behind me, hearing the windows shudder to the sudden force. The city smells hit my nose instantly, mingling with the scent of fires that are widespread throughout the demolished city. A few lingering people with cameras and microphones apparently recognize me because they begin shouting frantic questions and more come flooding from other streets in a frenzy. I spin on my heel and sprint down a dark alley, seeing a small wooden platform supported by metal beams jutting out of a building. I jump up and delicately perch myself on the edge, the reporters charging down the alley below me, oblivious to the fact that I'm right above them.

Sighing, I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, resting my chin on my knees. I stare blankly at the white bandage covering my arm, which doesn't hurt too badly anymore, trying to block out the mental images of my early days at SHIELD. I hear almost inaudible footsteps at the end of the alley where I came from, and I quickly recognize the tread as Clint's: only assassins step that lightly, but it's still too heavy to be Natasha's. One thing I noticed about him is that the seriousness of his attitude passes away after the threat does, revealing a crafty, even mischievous, air about him. He sees me sitting up on the platform and quickens his pace toward me, using a nearby dumpster as a step to reach the ledge. Jumping a bit, he swings himself up, eventually situating himself and dangling one leg off the edge, bringing the other up to his chest.

"Nice view," he comments, referring to the brick wall covered with vulgar graffiti opposite to us.

"Try finding a nicer one in this sewage plant," I reply. His lips twitch into a small smile.

"Good point." I keep eye contact for a moment, then return my gaze to the wall.

"I shouldn't have snapped at Tony like that. I guess I've been edgier than usual since Loki brainwashed me," I confess, keeping my gaze steady on the wall.

"Don't worry, I know the feeling," he mutters, remembering his own experience with Loki's mind control, "But no one blames you for snapping at Tony. At least, I don't. He pushes just people too far sometimes, but that's what makes him Tony." I grin and reply,

"Yeah, and where would we be without Tony?"

"Right," he agrees, chuckling a bit, "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" he asks seriously. I feel his intent gaze on the side of my face, almost begging me to trust him.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just…bad memories, you know?"

"I get it," he sympathizes, clapping my shoulder. I smile over at him and let myself fall off the ledge, Barton leaping off close behind me. We walk back into the destroyed restaurant, where they convinced Steve to talk about his World War II days. Thor follows up with various tales of him triumphing in battle and Tony engrosses us by telling us about the time he spent with the terrorists and the backstory behind the arc reactor in his chest. Somehow, we end up talking about what we're all doing after this.

"I must take Loki back to Asgard to deal him the punishment he deserves." Well, that settles what Thor's doing. Tony invites Bruce to come live with him at Stark Tower with the promise of a no-interruptions, calm environment for him to work in.

"What about you four?" Tony asks, referring to me, Steve, Clint, and Natasha.

"I guess now that SHIELD has me, they won't willingly let me go, so I can say hello to a life of living on the floating fortress of death," I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest, "Unless you would so graciously offer me your place of sanctification," I add overly dramatically, not actually wanting to live with Tony Stark.

"Yeah, sure," he obliges and for once, I don't hear the dripping sarcasm in his voice.

"Yeah you'd…wait what?" I stutter disbelievingly.

"You can live at Stark Tower if you want to," he states, "Wow, maybe that is your natural hair color," he adds under his breath, thinking I won't hear it. Hell, I'm so used to blond jokes, I hardly notice it.

"That's…great…" I trail off, probably sounding pretty ungrateful.

"You guys are welcome, too," Tony adds to Steve, Clint, and Natasha.

"I got no better place to be," says Clint, pretty much speaking for both him and Natasha.

"Well, I guess that doesn't leave me a choice," Steve succumbs. I raise my eyebrows, surprised at the turn in Tony's character.

"Then it's settled: you all are living in Stark Tower. You should be honored," he grins widely, making me feel nervous. Well, at least _that _part in his character is back.

"Why do I feel like we just made the wrong decision?" I mutter under my breath.

"Probably because we did," Steve mutters back. I shrug. It's not like I can argue with his logic.

* * *

**Gosh, dangit. Finally, done. I know, it's a short chapter, but school and soccer leave me with guess how much free time? Yeah, that's right, freaking zero. I'm aware this chapter is really short, and hopefully the next one will be longer and I'll update sooner. Again, hope you enjoy!**


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